


Black Water

by mveloc



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6146993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mveloc/pseuds/mveloc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place sometime after 3x06. Lexa decides that they need some time away from all of the chaos, so she takes Clarke on a hunt. The two of them finally get a chance to talk through their issues and share their feelings for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Water

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** So, here's my second Clexa fic. It's going to be a few parts, mostly just Clarke and Lexa clearing the air between them on a few issues and acknowledging their feelings for each other. Oh, and there's definitely going to be smut to follow-- this first chapter is just the set-up. The title is a reference to the Apparat song, "Black Water." Enjoy! :)

“I can’t believe they just let you wander off into the wildness on your own with everything that’s been going on.”

 

Neither of them have had a moment’s rest since the summit that was supposed to cement Skaikru as a part of the coalition but instead incited the wrath of the Ice Nation and Pike’s hold on Arkadia. Since that night, they’ve both been fighting tirelessly to put out the mass of fires that have sprung up in the wake of their new but rocky alliance.

 

“I’m _not_ on my own,” Lexa retorts with the hint of a smirk and the brief wriggle of her brows as she looks over to the blonde knowingly, an act which elicits a smirk of its own from the sky girl.

 

When Lexa had appeared at her bedchamber early that morning, she had expected the worst— more news of Pike’s insanity and Bellamy’s betrayal, more dead bodies at their doorstep. Instead, she was told to change into something suitable, that they were leaving Polis for a couple of days. As they slipped out through the front gate with minimal attention, she was surprised by the lack of the entourage that usually accompanied them.

 

“We’re going for a hunt. I think we could both use some time to clear our heads,” the commander had told her. “I’ve already told Titus not to follow.”

 

Even though it seemed like a particularly inopportune moment for a hunt, Clarke could hardly argue with the older girl; if there was one thing she needed more than anything right now, it was to escape the madness that had consumed her life. Even if it was only a temporary reprieve, all she knew was that she needed to find some way to pull herself from the thick and heavy fog of uncertainty that seemed to hang over the Grounder capitol. Now it was just her and Lexa, alone in the woods with nothing but their horses, weapons, and a few camping supplies to sustain them.

 

“But it seems kind of risky, doesn’t it?” Clarke asks. “What if something happens to you out here? You’re their leader. The coalition would fall apart without you.”

 

The irony isn’t lost to her.

 

She’d vanished into the woods for three months when her people had needed her the most. While she realizes now how foolish her decision to abandon camp was, it had felt so necessary at the time. She wonders if Lexa feels that same sense of desperation now, that after allowing the bodies of her warriors to rot in a field unavenged, she finds herself unable to look her own people in the eyes. Of course, she’ll never admit it and Clarke knows better than to ask, but there’s a heaviness to Lexa that’s unmistakeable to her now.

 

Lexa flashes her another knowing looking that borders on a glare.

 

“I know, I know,” Clarke says, answering her own question in a breath of laughter. “ _You’re the commander._ No one can tell you what to do, right?”

 

“If you’re really so concerned for my safety,” Lexa begins, descending from her horse. “I suggest you stay close and watch my back.”

 

The blonde follows suit, trying to mask her amusement as she climbs off her steed and walks it over to the small clearing that they’ve ventured upon. They decide to leave their horses and supplies, continuing on foot with only their weapons; it’ll be hard to catch much of anything with heavy hooves pounding on the ground and their bags weighing them down, prohibiting any sort of chase.

 

They move through the trees quietly, ducking under brunches and wading through plants, both girls with spears in hand. Three months ago, she would have been completely useless out in the bush without a firearm but now she carries a spear with a small shred of certainty, her eyes unconsciously drifting over to Lexa at her side for reassurance every few seconds. The commander has already managed to catch two rabbits of her own, but the hunt isn’t over yet and Clarke’s eyes are sharper than ever.

 

“Wait,” she whispers, reaching out and grabbing the brunette’s arm.

 

Lexa stops dead in her tracks, offering the other girl a curious glance. Clarke’s eyes narrow, focusing on a bush about a hundred metres in front of them. She had sworn she’d seen it rustle just a moment ago and she holds her position, waiting a few more seconds before launching her spear through the air. 

 

A loud yelp tears through the forest and both girls dart over to the scene of a crime to inspect the damage. They find a fox impaled by the sky girl’s spear, panting and whining as the last bit of life painfully leaves its body.

 

“Impressive,” Lexa remarks.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Drawing her knife, Clarke ducks down next to the suffering creature and finishes it with a single blow. She wipes the blood from her blade onto her pant leg, pulling her spear from its body, as well. 

 

“You’ve come a long way, Clarke.”

 

She looks up to find Lexa staring down at her, a sparkle in her emerald orbs and the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

 

Clarke silently exhales, collecting her prize and slinging the carcass over her shoulder.

 

“Not long enough,” she mutters beneath her breath.

 

She pushes ahead of Lexa, suddenly unable to look her in the eyes. 

 

She may be able to hunt like a Grounder, she may know how to survive in the wilderness, but neither of these things can help her now; nothing she’s learned these past few months can save Arkadia and prevent the oncoming war that they’ve both been sensing for a while now. 

 

As far as she’s come, it simply isn’t enough.

 

“Why did you leave, Clarke?”

 

Lexa’s voice cuts through the haze of her thoughts and she stops for a second, giving her a chance to catch up. 

 

“You know why,” Clarke huffs before starting up again.

 

“Because you couldn’t face what you’d done,” Lexa answers, reiterating what the girl had told her before.

 

She increases the length of her strides, walking briskly to keep up with Clarke who seems to be on some sort of mission, heading back in the direction of their designated campsite. Coming out here with Lexa had seemed like a good idea but the reality of her decision is only now beginning to sink in; she’s trapped out her with the other girl— the girl who’s been the cause of so much of her pain and more recently, her only true ally in all of this. She’d _wanted_ to hate Lexa so badly and a part of her did when Roan plucked her out of her solitude and dragged her to the foot of that throne. 

 

But now?

 

Her feelings are much less certain.

 

The sight of the commander no longer incites a violent, trembling rage in her. In fact, it has the opposite effect; with Lexa she feels at ease, like her carefully constructed walls are no longer necessary. The only true moments of peace she’s been able to find lately are the quiet ones they share with each other— with charcoal in hand, her rough strokes clashing against the delicate features they try so desperately to convey.

 

Who would have thought things would have turned out like this? Who would have thought it would be Lexa above all else that she could trust? A part of her feels guilty— wants to feel guilty— and that part of her is what propels her forward through the woods.

 

“Why did you _really_ leave?” Lexa tries again.

 

She ignores the question, pushing forward.  


 

“You know as well as I do that it’s impossible to hide from your responsibilities— from who you are,” Lexa tells her.

 

Clarke expels another sigh, this time a far more frustrated one.

 

“Do we really have to get into this right now?” she asks, trying not to lose her temper with the Grounder. “I thought we were trying to get away from all this crap. Isn’t that why we came out here?”

 

Lexa shrugs.

 

“Since we’re here, we may as well talk.”

 

Clarke stops again, whipping around to glare at the brunette.

 

“Okay, then let’s talk,” she relents. “Why can’t you just ask me normal questions like normal people do? Why does everything have to be some weird, layered conversation with you that always comes back to death or duty or something?”

 

Lexa’s laughter is just about the last thing she expects.

 

“What?” she snaps, almost offended.

 

“Titus tells me I’m difficult,” Lexa shares. “I suspect he’d have lost his mind completely if it was the Great _Wanheda_ he served.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Clarke mutters, the words escaping her lips before she has time to realize her sore spot is showing. 

 

Lexa perks up. 

 

“It bothers you?”

  
“How would _you_ feel if everyone referred to _you_ as the “Commander of Death” after you murdered hundreds of innocent people?” she throws.

 

She’s accepted the title purely out of necessity. For the Grounders, _Wanheda_ is someone to be feared and respected— the role that she must play to keep her people safe, to maintain the illusion that Skaikru is more than just a bunch of frightened children stranded in a foreign world. 

 

“We all have to make hard choices, Clarke.”

 

She scoffs.

 

“Spare me the lecture. You know as well as I do that if you’d been there, those people would still be alive.”

 

She turns to move, to head back to their site, but Lexa’s sudden and firm grip on her wrist holds her in place.

 

“I _don’t_ know. There’s no way I’ll ever know,” Lexa says, her eyes narrowed and intense. “That’s the point.”

 

She stares down at Lexa’s fingers encircling her wrist, trapped somewhere between wanting to pull away and draw her in closer.

 

“Even if I had stayed— even if we had attacked the mountain together— who’s to say that it would have ended so cleanly?” Lexa asks, catching the sky girl’s gaze. “Wars are messy, Clarke. No one gets out unscathed. You need to _let it go._ ”

 

She settles for pulling away.

 

“Just forget it. You clearly have no idea what I’m talking about,” she snaps, stalking away.

 

“Suppose you’re right. Suppose their leaders fell and we spared them. Then what?” Lexa counters, rushing to keep up with the younger girl. “You said it yourself— they relied on your blood to survive. They'd eventually die off without it, that is if they didn’t decide to rise up against you once again and harvest your people. You’d be in the very same position I left you in.”

 

She doesn’t bother responding, doesn’t want to give any weight to Lexa’s argument, but a part of her knows the commander speaks the truth. Even before she’d pulled that lever, she’d tried to imagine and rationalize a way out of their situation where everyone could get what they wanted. The truth was that there was no way— _there never is._

 

There was no way the Mountain Men would have ever stop coming for them so long as they relied on their blood for survival. There was no way they would have ever been truly be safe from Mount Weather’s shadow. Even now, she doesn’t want to believe it— just like she doesn’t want to believe that there’s no way to settle the animosity between Pike and his supporters and the Grounders that cry out for vengeance without some sort of heavy sacrifice from both sides.

 

“Let’s be generous and say that doesn’t happen. Let’s say that we murder their leaders and they welcome us with open arms, vow never to rise up against us again. What about _my_ people?” Lexa adds, pushing her logic even further as she trails just a short distance behind. “I may be _Heda_ , but I’m accountable to the clans, Clarke. If the Mountain Men survived, it would only be a matter of time before my people demanded their heads. They’d never feel safe as long as the Mountain draws breath. Before long, I’d have no choice but to march on the Mountain one last time.”

 

Clarke stops again, spinning around to face Lexa and her truth.

 

“Blood must not have blood,” she says with a rising aggression. “ _You_ said that! It’s what _you’ve_ been fighting for!”

 

“Because of _you!”_

 

The commander doesn’t raise her voice very often but when she does, it sucks all of the air right out of the room— or in this case, the forest. They both stare each other down with a hardness in their eyes and a heaviness in their chests. It’s Lexa who falters first, her stoney facade relenting to give way to an uncharacteristic softness that shimmers in her eyes.

 

“My people have grown up knowing nothing but war,” she speaks earnestly, her voice wavering. “When I became commander, I wanted to end that. I wanted to create a world where children weren’t raised orphans, where they could step out of the shadow of violence for once. None of that was possible until Skaikru.”

 

Clarke swallows the large lump that’s formed in her throat, her own anger and aggression melting away beneath the sincerity in the Grounder’s voice. Lexa steps even closer, so close that there’s no escaping now.

 

“You’re proof that it _can_ be done,” she says with a calm certainty. “What you did at the Mountain, what you did in the throne room, sparing that man’s life— that was a _revolution,_ Clarke. And every step you’ve taken up until this point has led you to this very moment.”

 

“Lexa…”

 

“You’re the final push we need— what we’ve been waiting for this entire time.”

 

Clarke clears her throat, trying to erase the proof of Lexa’s influence on her. The brunette sees through the gesture and offers her a smile that’s simultaneously so small and filled to the brim with hope.

 

“We make hard choices _every day_ , Clarke. We make them so that no one else has to— so that our children can know what it’s like to live in a world where choices like that aren’t even an option anymore.”

 

In the moment, she catches a rare and brief glimpse of Lexa’s heart. She’s come to secretly yearn for these moments, where the commander’s spirit shines so bright that she’s able to see her own vision reflected back at her. 

 

It’s a vision that they share.

 

Deep down, she’s always known this, even if she can’t always see it through the barrier of their languages and cultures, through their vastly different methods.

 

“Isn’t that worth it?” Lexa asks her quietly, a sadness to her voice. “All of the blood we’ve spilled… isn’t that what it’s for?”

 

Clarke shakes her head.  


 

“I don’t know.”

 

Lexa reaches forward, reaches towards Clarke, and the blonde freezes up. It takes her a moment to decipher the older girl’s intent, but Lexa grabs the fox which is slung over her shoulder and pulls it away, throwing it over her own instead and carrying the weight of it for the both of them— a small gesture of civility, or perhaps something else.

 

“Yes you do. You’ve always known,” Lexa tells her. “Same as me.”

 

Lexa starts up again, leading the path for Clarke to follow. She doesn’t chase after her right away, opting instead to linger in place with her thoughts for a moment, silently collecting them before Lexa calls back to her.

 

“It’s getting late. We should set up camp before it gets dark.”

 

 


End file.
